


The Heart Is A Winding Path

by ContreParry



Series: Fanworks for Charity [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Body Swap, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, magical mishaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: When it comes down to it all, it's Hawke's fault that they ended up this way.Or: Fenris and Anders swap bodies. They are not amused.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AndrastesKnickerweasel (AndrastesKnickerweasle)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndrastesKnickerweasle/gifts).



> For andrastesknickerweasel, who requested a body swap Fenders story after donating to charity! I was very happy to comply, and I hope the story is enjoyable! Thank you for your donation!

It started as all their misadventures started, with Hawke sticking his nose where it did not belong. Hawke was arguing with Anders over the properties of a particular staff in a case. Aveline and Fenris were examining a set of golden armor that Xenon claimed protected the wearer from all harm _for a price_. Xenon was lounging in his chair in the center of the cluttered room, as shriveled and corpse-like as he ever was. It was just another day in the Black Emporium. It was just another dull, dusty day. 

”It is pretty.” Aveline remarked, tilting her head to her left as she stared at the golden armor. Fenris hummed in agreement. It was beautiful. Hawke and Anders were still arguing in the background, and Fenris tried to tune out the sound of Anders speaking. 

”Pretty, but impractical.” Fenris said. “Gold is a soft metal. It will dent with a well placed blow.” But his eyes greedily traced the spiral engravings in the chest plate. It was a little large for his frame, but a skilled blacksmith could fit it to his body. 

”Must be enchanted then. I don’t see any marks.” Aveline concluded. “I wonder what price Xenon wants.” 

”I wonder what price the wearer pays to gain the armor’s protection.” Fenris muttered, visions of demons and blood magic already swimming in his mind. 

”Oh, isn’t that pretty!” Hawke whistled as he approached. “Who wants it?” 

”I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.” Anders warned. “That armor has more enchantments on it than all the tools in Sandal’s workshop put together!” 

”Of course.” Hawke snorted. “Everything here is enchanted. Take this box for example. Full of enchantments. And _secrets_.” Hawke held up a small golden box in his palm. 

”Hawke, put that down!” Aveline ordered, reaching forward to grab at the box. Hawke laughed and pulled his arm back. The box wobbled, it fell, and Fenris reached forward to catch it before it reached the floor. His fingertips brushed against slender, long fingers and a wide hand, there was a rush of bright pain similar to a shock of lightning running through his body, and then came a flash of light that blinded him. Then there was nothing at all. 

”Fucking Andraste’s Knickerweasels, that was bright!” Anders said, but there was something strange about his voice. Fenris could not place his finger on what had changed, but if he had to guess he would say that Anders’s voice was deeper than usual. But Fenris was still hanging onto the box with another set of hands clutching it as well. Different hands, ones roughened from constant swordplay. Aveline? 

”I see that you… _partook_ in the use of the… merchandise.” Xenon’s dry, crackled voice drawled. “Not an advisable… choice. You have not paid Urchin for its use.” 

”Use?” Hawke asked, coughing. Fenris felt a massive body move on his left, but wasn’t Hawke at his right? The blast must have scrambled them all. 

”I told you to put it down, Hawke.” Aveline lectured. “Why can’t you ever keep you hands to your-” 

”Andraste’s TITS!” Anders screeched, and the box fully dropped into Fenris’s hands. It was heavier than Fenris anticipated, and he opened his eyes and looked down. 

The box was gold and covered in beautiful scrawling script Fenris couldn’t hope to decipher. It swam in front of his eyes in many ever changing shapes. The hands that held the box were narrow at the fingers and wide at the palms, pale and long and dotted with freckles. They were attached to bony wrists, and those wrists disappeared into the ragged sleeves of a teal green jacket. 

These were not Fenris’s hands. 

”It is called… the Soul Box. A Tevinter crafted item, most often used by… Orlesians.” Xenon’s voice curled around them. “It was supposed to resolve blood feuds between rival families. What would be more… disturbing… than to live in an enemy’s body?” 

Fenris heard Xenon’s speech through a fog of panic. He was trapped in Anders’s body. _Anders’s_ body. Everything about this body felt wrong to him. It was too thin, his stomach ached, his head hurt, and somehow it felt crowded, as if he was sharing it with someone else trying to shove him out. Fenris remembered Justice, and as blue lightning sparked his fingertips he realized that Justice had not vacated the body with Anders. Justice had stayed behind. 

” **What trickery have you cast on us, Xenon?!** ” Justice roared with Fenris’s mouth. Anders’s mouth. Fenris tried to wrestle control of Anders’s back from Justice, but the demon pushed him aside. A smaller body approached and grabbed the sparking hand in two dark, strong, calloused hands. Those hands flickered with a ghostly pale light. Fenris recognized his body, and he realized that the strangeness in Anders’s voice was because Anders was stuck in his body. 

”Justice, calm down. We’ll figure this out. Is Fenris in there? Please let him out, he doesn’t know how to talk to you like I do.” Anders said, and it was strange to watch Anders move Fenris’s body around. 

” **Anders?** ” Justice’s voice boomed out. “ **Anders, is that you?** ” 

”Yes, it’s me. Justice, you have to let Fenris take over, you’re probably scaring him. It scares me when you take over without permission.” Anders said, and his voice was a soothing balm on Fenris’s raw nerves. He felt Justice slip away until he could move his fingers and mouth again. Feeling returned to his body, and with his control came panic. 

He had never felt anything like it. His body, Anders’s body, shuddered and shook like a leaf on the wind. He felt tears gather in his eyes, and Fenris had not cried in years. But this body, Anders’s body, seemed prone to outbursts of emotions. All he could do was panic. 

”Fenris?” Hawke asked, reaching out to grab Fenris’s now feather covered shoulder. “Fenris, it’s all going to be okay.” His large hand fell on Fenris’s shoulder and Fenris panicked at the touch. 

”Don’t touch me!” Fenris shrieked with Anders’s lips, and he stumbled away as a ball of fire shot out towards Hawke. Hawke easily reflected the flames, but that was enough nonsense for Xenon to handle in his shop. 

”Take the Soul Box with you.” Xenon ordered. “And leave my shop. Until you can return these two to their original bodies, they are not welcome here.” Aveline hastily bustled the group out of the shop, Anders loudly protesting that Xenon let them back in and fix this mess up as they were herded down the street. Fenris said nothing. He was too lost in the chaos that was Anders’s mind and learning how to walk in a body so different from his own to say anything. 

-

The day turned to shit the moment Anders opened his eyes after another one of Hawke’s many blunders. Hawke was the one who picked up the box. Hawke was the one making a ruckus. Hawke was the one who dropped the box in the first place. But of course it was Anders who had to pay the price. Anders and, Anders spared a glance at the hands that were not his own, Fenris. 

The elf (and who was the elf now in this situation?) had been oddly silent ever since they left The Black Emporium and entered The Hanged Man. He did nothing but stare at the floor and fidget nervously with Anders’s leather hair tie. The fidgeting was Anders’s quirk, Anders knew, one that must have stayed with his original body. He felt no urge to fidget now, even though normally it was the only way to calm his panicked state. But now all he could do was sit in silence between Aveline and Sebastian as Fenris (in Anders’s body) sat between Isabela and Merrill while Hawke explained the whole sorry affair to Varric. 

”And then Xenon kicked us out and said fix it.” Hawke finished the story before taking a swig of ale. Anders reached over the table and stole Isabela’s ale. He sipped it and tried not to vomit. It tasted slightly more palatable in his own body. The lyrium in Fenris’s- in his borrowed body- flashed, and the tin beer stein fell through his hands. Isabela caught it before its contents spilled out over the table, and Sebastian politely gave Anders his tea so he could wash the stale taste of ale from his mouth. 

”May I see the box, Hawke?” Merrill asked politely. Hawke slid it over, and Anders flinched away from it. Dangerous box, that. 

”Oh, don’t worry Fenris, I mean Anders. This will be confusing, won’t it?” Merrill said cheerfully as she set the box down on the scarred wooden table. She turned the box with her dainty fingers, and the gold reflected the candlelight and highlighted the swirls and and script. 

”It’s not dangerous now. The box only works a single soul exchange at a time.” Merrill explained. “It’s called… Vir Vhenan? Vir Vhenan?” Her voice sounded slightly scandalized, but only in the most polite way. 

”Is there a problem, Merrill?” Sebastian asked. Isabela leaned over, her cleavage hanging in Anders’s face as she poked at the box. 

”My my, Kitten. If it’s harmless junk now, should we just sell it for extra coin?” Isabela teased. 

”Vir Vhenan is a _terrible_ translation!” Merrill complained. “I think the original enchanter meant to say ‘Path of the Heart,’ but the grammar is all wrong- Isabela, don’t steal it! It may not be Dalish but it is based in elvhen mage craft! It’s important!” 

”Not to mention Fenris and I need it to restore ourselves to our original bodies.” Anders pointed out. Everything in Fenris’s body _hurt_ , from the tips of his toes to the center of his forehead. His skin felt too tight and itchy, and the lyrium ached. Why hadn’t Fenris ever said anything about it before? As a healer Anders should have known. 

”I can continue to look at it. I will decipher it all for you, as bad as the elvhen is.” Merrill promised. “Until then, be patient. And try not to hurt each other.” 

”Easier said than done, Daisy. The elf and Blondie don’t see eye to eye on good days.” Varric joked, but his voice was strained. No one was comfortable. 

”And Fenris?” Hawke said, rousing Fenris out of his brooding. Anders didn’t realize how dangerous his face could look when the person inside it was as prickly as a rose bush. 

”Hmm?” Fenris grunted. 

”You and Anders should stay together and help each other get used to being in another body. We don’t know how long this will last.” Hawke warned. Merrill muttered something about it only being a few days before returning her attention to the box. 

”I could join in on getting to know new bodies.” Isabela purred out. “Sounds so… stimulating.” 

”Hands off, whore. They are having a rough enough time with it.” Aveline said firmly. “Fenris, I mean Anders, you are going to stay at Fenris’s mansion until this mess is cleaned up.” Anders felt his heart sink, and he opened his mouth to protest. Live with Fenris? In that ruined husk of a mansion filled with rotting bodies? 

”It’s a good idea. It’s close to most of us, and neither of you can stay with me. I’ve got foreign guests and visitors and Templars tramping about my house every day, and you don’t exactly have the best control of Anders’s magic, Fenris.” 

”And once again my fate has been decided by a mage and magic. The South and the Imperium are much the same.” Fenris muttered with Anders’s mouth, and that was just going too far! 

”Excuse me, Ser Broody Britches!” Anders retorted, slamming his hands against the rough surface of the table. “I’m not the one who almost lit a shop on fire!” 

”If your demon didn’t lock me up as a passenger in this wretched body of yours, i would not have set fire to anything at all.” Fenris pointed out coldly. 

”And if you had the manners to call him by his name, he would have trusted you enough to give you space!” Anders argued. 

”Enough!” Aveline commanded. “Fenris, Anders, you will be living together until Merrill fixes you up. Understood?” Aveline’s bright eyes were as hot as molten metal, so Anders sullenly agreed to her terms. 

But he did not like them. 

-

Fenris was disgusted. Everything about residing inside Anders’s body was wrong. His soul was not shaped for this form. Anders’s body was always moving, always twitching, always anxious. He had trouble calming his mind. He was restless and could not concentrate. The magic at his fingertips sparked and flared and he could not control it! And then there was the other problem. 

” **I do not approve of your thoughts on Anders.** ” Justice’s voice boomed through his head, Anders’s head. “ **You do not recognize how mages have suffered. You support their unjust imprisonment.** ” 

”Shut up.” Fenris muttered, and the fact that his voice came out more similar to Anders than his own just irritated him further. 

”Excuse me? Did you say something?” Anders called out. He was lurking somewhere further in the mansion, and Fenris did not want to approach him. But Anders appeared in his body, wearing some sort of rag over his head and holding a rag and a broom in another hand. Dirt was smudged across his- no, Fenris’s body’s- nose. 

”What are you doing?” Fenris asked. This entire situation was absurd. Unbelieveable. This was his punishment for befriending a madman like Hawke. This was the price he had to pay. 

”Cleaning. You might not mind living in a literal nug’s nest, but I do.” Anders sniffed. Did Fenris’s face always look so arrogant, or was this a byproduct of Anders living in his flesh? Anders shoved the broom into Fenris’s limp hands. 

”You might as well help. I’m going to burn those corpses. Help me drag them outside.” Anders ordered. 

”They aren’t corpses.” Fenris muttered. 

”What?” 

”They aren’t corpses.” Fenris repeated. “They are training dummies. Made of straw. I dressed them in armor and scatter them across the mansion to dissuade thieves.” 

”That’s… something, I guess.” Anders finally said. His face was expressive. Or at least his soul wearing Fenris’s face was expressive. It was hard to say. Fenris knew he never walked around looking like an open mouthed, flabbergasted fish. That was pure Anders. 

”I am not a complete slob. You live in Darktown. You have no right to judge.” Fenris sniffed. He kept a clean enough place. The mansion was too big for one elf to manage, and he hated the place anyhow. Save for the wine cellar and wash room. The giant stone tub was large enough for five people to rest comfortably in, and Fenris enjoyed lounging in it when he wasn’t out with Hawke and his band of misfits. 

”Excuse you, Prissy Pants, I have _every_ right to judge. I run a clinic!” Anders retorted, then he turned ashen under Fenris’s dark skin. “Oh Maker, the clinic!” The lyrium markings flashed again, and the rag that Anders was holding fell to the floor. 

”Breathe, Anders.” Fenris ordered. “Concentrate on calming the markings.” 

”All those people… they need a healer, and I don’t have my magic-” Anders whispered. 

”A problem to ponder after you have regained control.” Fenris replied. “Focus, Anders.” The markings went dark and quiet after a moment, and Anders breathed in. 

”Right. Calm. You’re good at keeping calm, aren’t you?” Anders asked. Fenris shrugged. 

”It is easier in my own body. I’m struggling now.” He replied, and secretly he hoped Anders could provide him with some sort of miracle solution to his inability to focus. 

”Usually Justice helps me with that. I tend to be an anxious mess without his support.” Anders laughed, a nervous sort of sound that Fenris did not realize his throat was capable of making. 

”He is not being particularly helpful to me.” Fenris groused. “He keeps complaining.” Justice was still a low voice in the back of his mind, arguing about injustice and the balance of power in Kirkwall. 

”He complains about everything. Give him something to ponder over and he’ll be silent for a while.” Anders suggested. Fenris thought for a moment, and put together a query for Justice to work through. 

” _Justice. Where do elves fit into the narrative of the Chantry?_ ” He thought, and he felt immense relief as he felt Justice retreat to consider his question. 

”He is gone now.” Fenris said with some relief. “As to your clinic, could you not just close it until Merrill returns us to our bodies?” 

”I wish, but people are always sick and injured. Darktown, remember? I can’t abandon them.” Anders sighed, and he shuffled over to a half-broken armchair and collapsed into the uneven cushioning. He propped his feet up on a crate. His feet, Fenris’s feet, were covered in some sort of shoe. 

”What are you wearing?” Fenris asked. How did Anders even find shoes that fit Fenris’s feet? 

”I wasn’t going to wander around barefoot with broken glass on the floor.” Anders said. “I’ve got an idea. I teach you to use healing magic, and you teach me how to use these markings. Then we go to the clinic during the day and work.” Anders said it so easily, as if the suggestion wasn’t madness. Fenris could only stare at him. Him? In a clinic? Using magic? What if he summoned a demon? All those innocent people would be slaughtered, and Anders would be useless wearing his body- but what else was he going to do? Justice wouldn’t even let him drink at The Hanged Man. **Alcohol makes idle hands and an idle mind** , he lectured. 

”It’s a good idea. And it will keep Justice quiet, if you’re learning to use the magic. Less chances of random fireballs too.” Anders added, and he held out his hand. Fenris knew that Anders had won this round. It might disgust him, but he had to control all this power before it destroyed him. 

”Very well. Show me how to heal, and I will teach you how to control the lyrium.” Fenris said. Anders’s hand was still outstretched, waiting for Fenris to do something. So he reached out for his- for Anders’s- hand and shook it. 

-

Fenris was a surprisingly easy pupil. He listened to Anders’s instructions and asked questions when Anders was done explaining technique. Relevant questions too. He wanted to know how a mage went about healing different injuries, or when they knew when to heal or when to leave an injury alone. Anders was happy to talk about healing. No one ever wanted to learn what it took to be a healer unless they were in training themselves. People just wanted their bodies healed. But here was Fenris, attentively listening to Anders and _learning_ , his serious nature making Anders’s face look more mature. Anders found himself looking forward to their evening lessons as they went about their days in Fenris’s mansion. 

”So tell me what you’ve learned about healing a stab wound.” Anders instructed. They were sitting in what was probably once the front parlor before Fenris let the place fall around his ears. Anders carried one of Fenris’s practice dummies from the hallway and laid it on the rug in front of the fireplace, and he enjoyed the extra strength of Fenris’s body. Lifting up a fully armored training dummy felt like lifting a feather. 

”Where is the stab wound?” Fenris asked. His hair, Anders’s hair, fell into his face. They kneeled down next to the straw body, and Anders pointed to the ragged stomach of the dummy. 

”Here. Stomach wounds are the most common kind you’ll run across in the clinic. Muggings and all.” Anders tapped his finger against the straw stuffed belly of the dummy and and smiled at Fenris. “What do you do when a patient stumbles in the clinic with a stab wound to their stomach?” 

Anders sat back, folding his legs under his body. He could probably twist himself into a myriad of shapes and be as comfortable as if he was laying on a feather bed. Anders was in awe of Fenris’s flexibility and strength. He found he had so much energy, and save for the constant ache of the lyrium (an ache he was easing with elfroot tea and a salve made with chamomile and rose) he had no serious complaints. The markings still hurt, but it wasn’t as terrible as that first day. He would have to give Fenris some of the salve after they switched back. No one should be in so much constant pain. 

Fenris stared at the dummy and tapped the area Anders pointed out with one pale finger. 

”First you make them sit down on an empty cot. Then you look at the wound, removing clothing if you must to get a clearer view. If there is an object still in the wound it must be removed.” Fenris recited. “There could be pieces of glass embedded in the flesh, fabric, splinters, or even bits of metal. Clean out the wound with alcohol to prevent infection.” 

”Good. What next?” Anders asked. Fenris’s memory was impressive, as was his determination. He had thrown his entire being into learning how to heal. 

”Once the wound is clean, either stitch the injury together with a clean needle and thread, or use magic.” Fenris still flinched at the mention of magic, but he soldiered on. “There are problems that every healer should be aware of if they use magic.” 

”What sort of problems, Fenris?” 

”Healers should know the body and where muscles attach to each other. They must know where organs are supposed to rest in the body.” Fenris explained. “Otherwise a spirit healer can put their patient in a worse state than when they found them. If a body can heal well enough on its own, it should. Magic can overrun a body if the healer does not exercise control.” 

”Very good, Fenris.” Anders praised, and from the way Fenris straightened his back and the small smile that graced his- no, Anders’s- lips, Anders could see that Fenris was pleased. 

”I think you’re ready to heal people.” Anders continued. Fenris’s face (well, Anders’s face with Fenris’s expressions) turned from surprised pleasure to shock, and Anders thought he could see Fenris’s hundreds of thoughts racing in his big brown eyes. 

”I don’t know.” Fenris murmured. “I do not have enough practice yet.” 

”You have the temperament for a healer. You’re patient, you keep calm under pressure, you’re observant… you could be a great healer, Fenris. And your body…” Anders grinned and wiggled his fingers. “You’re great at concentrating! My mind is always so scattered about, but you! Your mind is clear!” 

”Justice decided to help me keep my thoughts together while I’m in your body. He thinks it is unjust that I cannot think as I normally do.” Fenris said grouchily. “But he’s still working on the Chantry question, so I am left alone in relative peace.” 

It had been three days since the switch, and besides daily visits from Hawke to inform them on Merrill’s progress and drop off food, the pair had only stepped outside in the gardens to enjoy the sun. Being in such close proximity to Fenris (and living in his body) had the paradoxical effect of making Anders more fond of the man. All their friends were concerned that the two would murder each other within hours, but Anders found endless amusement in learning how to live with Fenris’s body. 

Fenris hated fish, and Anders found the taste of fish in Fenris’s mouth was disgusting. Anders was a little sad about it. Fish was a cheap meal he could always get in Darktown, but now he couldn’t stand the taste. On the other hand, he could drink without Justice scolding him, and Fenris had the oddest fondness for apples. It wasn’t impossible to keep Fenris’s body fed and comfortable. 

Getting washed and dressed was a harder task. Anders didn’t want to look too long at Fenris’s body. Even though he was borrowing it for the moment, Anders felt that it would be too invasive if he took a proper look at Fenris’s body. He wasn’t a lover. At this point, the two of them were barely even friends! 

But even the little he saw was enough. Fenris was gorgeous, Maker damn him, and Anders wondered why he hadn’t heard any rumors of Fenris going out and having some fun. He must have had offers, people who wanted to share in his company. Did Fenris just retreat to his mansion at the end of the day and drink? It seemed so… unlikely. 

Whatever Fenris’s habits were, he had been nothing but a gracious host. He offered Anders food, drink, and shelter, and even allowed Anders use of his rather large tub (an offer Anders was happy to accept). And Fenris had is strange quirks and fascinations as well. Anders once walked into the kitchen and found Fenris lightly patting his arm. When asked what he was doing, Fenris hesitantly admitted that he found Anders’s arm hair _interesting_. Anders couldn’t help but find Fenris’s curiosity and po-faced seriousness endearing. 

”Anders, it’s your turn.” Fenris said, breaking through Anders’s thoughts as he pushed small needles into the straw dummy. “Use the markings and phase through the cloth to fetch the needles. There are three in the chest and one in the head.” 

”Maker, I hate this.” Anders groaned. “Do you know how hard it is to pick out the needles without getting pricked myself?” 

”Yes.” Fenris replied. “But you must practice. Your control is better. You haven’t set off the markings on accident today.” Fenris’s praise was rare, and Anders felt a flush run from his neck to the tips of his ears. Fenris’s ears. It wasn’t as confusing as it was on the first day, but parsing out which reactions belonged to him and which were Fenris’s was still a challenge. 

”Anders.” Fenris prodded. 

”Yes, yes, I’ll get to it.” Anders sighed and lit up the lyrium in his hand. Time to practice. 

-

The next morning Anders dragged Fenris into the clinic. The stream of patients started at a strong flood, and never slowed until the sun went down. He was fortunate though. None of the patients were so desperate that they needed magic to heal their wounds. Anders guided Fenris through the process of seeing to patients. He listened to complaints, and Anders told him what to give them. He handed out healing potions, salves, medicine, and even cleaned and bandaged minor wounds. Fenris didn’t use any magic, and helping others heal felt safe. It felt _good_. It was a comfort to heal a body instead of breaking it. Fenris stretched out his body and grabbed a jar of dried elfroot from the top of the shelf. Anders’s height was a positive feature to being in this his body. He could reach for anything now, and he enjoyed it. 

”Fenris, did you find the elfroot? Green jar.” Anders called out. Fenris was grateful that Anders seemed to know that Fenris couldn’t read, and he did not push Fenris to tell him. He adapted his instructions to help Fenris function. His flexibility made Fenris wonder what he would do if Fenris asked asked for help. Would he give Fenris lessons? Would he direct him to another teacher? He would not scoff or mock Fenris, he was sure of it now. Anders teased, but he was not mean-spirited at heart. 

”Yes, Anders. I found it.” Fenris called back, and he returned to the back room of the clinic with the jar in hand. 

”I hate that I’m short. How can you stand it?” Anders complained. He was stirring a pot of some foul smelling substance that he claimed was a healing potion. It was mostly dark in the room, save for the glow of the fire under the pot. Anders’s eyes- Fenris’s eyes- glowed in the darkness. Fenris missed his heightened eyesight. He kept stubbing his toes on objects he couldn’t see. 

”I’m tall for an elf.” Fenris explained, a laugh bubbling up from his throat and into his mouth. “You’re just a freakishly tall human.” Not that Fenris minded. Anders was a skinny man, but his height was an advantage Fenris enjoyed. 

”And that! Ugh, do you know how many people called me Knife-ear today?” Anders complained. He yanked the jar out of Fenris’s hands and poured out a small amount of dried elfroot on a piece of parchment. 

”Ten. I heard.” Fenris said. Anders had told off everyone who said the word, and Fenris glared at them. Evidently that was enough for people to keep their mouths shut. 

”How do you stand it?” Anders asked. “Every day, people saying that to your face.” 

”They say it less when they realize I could kill them where they stand.” Fenris retorted. “And it is better than being called slave.” 

”They shouldn’t say it at all.” Anders muttered, but he dropped the subject. Fenris returned to fetching items in the clinic for Anders, Anders brewed healing potions, and the evening passed in relative peace and quiet. 

Justice finally stirred to attention on the fifth day, when they were walking up to Hightown to visit with Hawke and their friends. 

” **I am having trouble with the query you posed, Elf.** ” Justice said. Fenris managed to keep calm, and only a slight faltering of his steps indicated that anything was going on. 

”What sort of trouble?” Fenris asked the spirit as he walked. Anders took hold of his elbow and escorted him around crowds. He must have noticed that he and Justice were occupied. 

” **It is a complex question. At first I thought the answer was that everyone has a place in the Chantry, save for mages. But then I remembered that only humans are involved in the organization’s leadership. Then I thought of Shartan and his role in Andraste’s life.** ” Justice continued. 

”The Book of Shartan is banned from Chantry dogma.” Fenris replied. 

” **I remember. But there are elves who worship. Humans try to convert the Dalish. There should be a place for them if they are brought to Andrastianism.** ” Justice concluded. “ **But there is not.** ” 

”No. There is not.” Fenris agreed. 

” **I will fix that too, in time.** ” Justice promised. “ **It is unjust. Give me another question to ponder.** ” 

”Another?” 

” **I find that occupying my mind with such questions has helped Anders’s body rest. It is good for him and for me. Another question, Fenris, if you would.** ” Justice demanded. 

”What safeguards would you implement to prevent the injustice of Tevinter from plaguing your dreams of a mage utopia in the South?” Fenris asked. 

” **A good question. I will think on it.** ” Justice said, and he retreated to the back of Fenris’s mind. 

”Dealt with Justice?” Anders whispered. 

”Yes. He has opinions on elves and the Chantry.” Fenris said. “He wanted more questions to think about.” 

”Didn’t think it’d work that well.” Anders replied, and they entered Hawke’s mansion and waited for their friends to join them. 

Hawke was already there, and he had the two of them sit before offering them tea. 

”So, how much sugar, Fenris?” He asked. Fenris hesitated for a moment. His original body preferred no sugar in his tea and a bit of lemon and honey, but Anders’s… 

”Two sugars and some cream.” Fenris decided. Hawke’s hands shook slightly. Tea spilled over the edge of the teacup. 

”Lemon and honey for me.” Anders said, and Hawke set the teapot down. 

”So should I just switch your eating habits around?” Hawke asked 

”That would be simplest. We are trying to treat each other’s bodies properly.” Anders explained. 

”Justice said your body is better rested while I’m using it.” Fenris added. “You should sleep more.” 

”Hmmm. I have a salve to help with the pain in the markings.” Anders replied. “I’m still working on improving it, but it’s helping.” 

”It is nice to see you both getting on.” Hawke said. “I was worried.” 

”And the Templars haven’t had any reports of magical healing, so there are less raids around your clinic, Anders.” Varric added as he walked in with the rest of their companions. “How’s the shaving going, Fenris?” 

”I’m getting used to it.” Fenris replied. “Anders and I agreed that magic can only be used in dire situations. I do not have the experience he does. Perhaps the Templars thought the healer moved on?” 

”Whatever the case, with less Templars running about I don’t have to send the Guard out to clean the mess.” Aveline said. “Which means I can assign more people to places in need.” 

”You both seem happier.” Sebastian said politely. “More at peace.” 

”I’m still waiting for news about Fenris’s small clothes, Anders. I’m very disappointed that you won’t tell an old friend our beautiful brooding elf’s secrets.” 

”Keep on being disappointed, I’m not telling.” Anders said cheerfully, and Fenris smiled. 

”Oh, how sweet!” Merrill cooed. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Fenris smile. Even if it’s with your face, Anders.” 

”How is the research progressing?” Fenris asked. 

”Well the box’s creator had a terrible understanding of elven grammar.” Merrill immediately said. “Atrocious! But even though they didn’t conjugate their verbs properly I still have a firm grasp on the spells and the ways to break it.” Merrill grew more and more excited as she spoke, her little hands fluttering like pale butterflies in a flower garden. 

”Yes, and?” Aveline asked. “We’d all like to get this mess resolved so we can put this box in a dusty corner and forget all about it.” 

”As peaceful as this change has been, I am sure Fenris and Anders are anxious to return to normal.” Sebastian added. 

“Oh yes. Of course.” Merrill took a deep breath and slowed down. “There are three ways to break the spell and return you both to normal.” 

”Glad to hear it!” Anders said cheerfully. “Seeing in the dark has gotten me more in touch with my feline side, but I do miss eating baked trout. It’s cheap and healthy, but Fenris hates fish.” 

”I enjoy the extra height I’ve gained, but I am not fond of the Warden nightmares.” Fenris said. The nightmares were hard to manage, and Fenris wondered how Anders dealt with dreams of archdemons and darkspawn every night. 

”You didn’t tell me you had those too!” Anders whispered. 

”I assumed you knew that much.” Fnris retorted. 

”Assumptions aren’t exactly a good thing, you know-” Anders began to lecture, but the rest of the group 

”Boys, enough! Let Kitten speak.” Isabela ordered, and Fenris and Anders fell silent. 

”As I said, there are three ways to turn you back to normal.” Merrill said. “First, we could force you two to work through your disagreements and make you see eye to eye, but that probably won’t work. Sometimes parts of people’s souls get all mixed up when you force things. There are records in Orlais of the Soul Box going wrong. Sebastian helped me find them.” 

”Orlesians.” Sebastian snorted. “Forcing the switch back had a variety of effects. It could be as minor as the two of you changing your tea preferences to the two of you being permanently stuck in each other’s bodies.” 

”What does using force even mean?” 

”Well, it would mean them agreeing to get on, but they’re lying.” Merrill said. “There was a case in Val Royeaux with the box, where the two in the soul exchange agreed to have their children marry each other to end a blood feud, but secretly they ordered assassinations on each other’s families. It ended in a bloodbath and the two in the soul exchange trapped forever in their enemy’s body for breaking their promises.” The room turned silent at her words. 

”Charming.” Fenris muttered, bringing his teacup to his lips. “Next option?” 

”Blood magic.” Merrill said. “I wouldn’t try it for you two. It has the same problems as the first one. Plus it’s tricky to deal with demons.” 

”Agreed. No blood magic, and no demons.” Anders said hastily. 

”So the last option is the best one.” Merrill said politely. “You two just have to learn to get along and understand each other. The heart is a wandering path, you see. Wandering through in your own time will give you both a better chance at recovery than anything else.” 

”So we continue as we have been, and it will work itself out?” Anders asked. 

”The less we use this bizarre magic, the better.” Fenris muttered. He didn’t want more unstable spells cast on him or Anders. What would it do to them? 

”If that’s all you can do, then we’ll just have to wait. More tea, Fenris?” Hawke asked, and Fenris wordlessly held out his teacup. Wine would be better, but Justice fussed when he drank. Tea would have to do. 

-

”Well, it could be worse.” Anders offered weakly. They sat before the fire in Fenris’s room, sharing a bottle of wine. Justice was apparently allowing Fenris to drink, which Anders envied. They passed the bottle back and forth as they watched the flames dance in the fireplace, as Fenris had no wine glasses. 

”It could be worse. Being in your body isn’t terrible.” Fenris said quietly. “And I like spending time with you.” 

”I’d rather take our time and be stuck in your body for than resort to blood magic.” Anders murmured. Being Fenris wasn’t awful, and being around Fenris without fighting was a joy. 

”Wonderful, being inside my body rates over blood magic.” Sarcasm dripped from Fenris’s words like honey from a wooden spoon. Anders laughed and sat back. That was one of the good things about Fenris. His sense of humor. He even laughed, though it was hard to pull that laughter out of Fenris. But every laugh was worth it. 

”I haven’t explored your body in fun ways. That’d be rude.” Anders joked. “You didn’t invite me to look or touch, so I… haven’t.” Even though Fenris was handsome and funny and listened like no one else ever did, and Anders _liked_ him- Anders wouldn’t look at his body. He wouldn’t take advantage of Fenris by staring or touching beyond what was necessary. 

”Oh?” Fenris asked. “So you’ve thought of it?” 

”Only a few thoughts before I dismiss it.” Anders said. “It would be wrong. You wouldn’t have wanted it to happen between us if we were back to normal, so I shouldn’t. So I didn’t.” Maker, when he looked at Fenris’s face he saw his own, but when he looked at those brown eyes he saw the spirit behind them. He saw Fenris, and he liked what he saw. 

”I have feared magic for so long that I feared all mages.” Fenris confessed as he stared into the fire. “But this has changed much for me. You have changed my feelings on the subject.” 

”What changed?” Anders asked, his curiosity too great to be contained. 

”You taught me that magic can be controlled. You can control magic. You aren’t wild or untrained. It takes time and diligence to be as skilled as you are at magic.” Fenris explained. “I trust you.” 

”I’m… flattered, Fenris.” Anders murmured. That flush rose from the back of his neck to the tips of his ears again. “I didn’t realize how you were motivated by your fear of magic. I can’t believe it took me living with these markings in your body to understand it, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. You’ve coped with what mages did to you a lot better than I would have.” Anders would have probably gone mad, or tried to kill every mage on sight. Fenris… Fenris was calm. Fenris didn’t _like_ magic, but he saw its uses. 

”I have enjoyed learning how to heal. When we return to our bodies, I may help you in the clinic.” Fenris stated. “Healing is… for so long I was only a weapon, Anders. Do you know what that is like?” 

Anders shook his head, because how could he know? 

”I lived for my master’s desires, and I cut down everything and everyone who stood in his path. But now I can do more than kill.” Fenris smiled, and it might be Anders’s features but the smile was pure Fenris. That was Fenris’s grin, Fenris’s expression, and Fenris was a strong, beautiful soul no matter what body he inhabited. 

”I’m happy I could help you, Fenris.” Anders croaked. Was falling for a man living in your body a form of narcissism? 

”You look surprised.” Fenris said. “It’s a good look on you, Anders.” 

”So I look good, even wearing your body?” Anders teased, but his voice was weak. 

”I never thought myself to be attractive until you inhabited my body.” Fenris said, and he took another drink of the wine. 

”Do you think it’s vanity to find you attractive, Fenris?” Anders asked as he leaned forward, towards Fenris. “Do you find it foolish?” 

”No.” Fenris decided. “I find the person within the body attractive, and that in turn makes the body attractive. Though you move and act in a way that is purely you, Anders.” 

And what was Anders supposed to do in the face of such honest flattery? He leaned over and kissed Fenris on the cheek, but Fenris turned his head and grabbed his chin, and they were _kissing_ , and Anders’s head was so twisted around he couldn’t tell his left from right or up from down, and all that mattered was that something good had come out of the strangeness of the past few days. 

When Anders pulled away, it was strange again. Or more like it was no longer strange. His body fit again, he felt complete, his skin no longer ached, and when Anders opened his eyes he saw Fenris, Fenris’s body, kneeling across from him. Anders raised his hands and examined them: Thin long fingers, wide palms, pale skin dotted with freckles and fine blond hair. They were his hands. _His_ hands. 

” **Anders? Have you returned?** ” Justice asked, and Anders nodded his head. 

”Yes, Justice. I’m back.” Anders told his friend, and he was surprised to feel Justice’s disappointment flash through his mind. 

” **I was not done pondering his question!** ” Justice complained. “ **Let him know I will answer it, in due time.** ” And he retreated, and Anders found his mind to be quiet again. 

”Anders?” Fenris murmured. Anders looked into Fenris’s eyes, wide green eyes with Fenris’s soul staring into him, and Anders smiled. 

”We’re back.” Anders said breathlessly. “Who would’ve thought, all we had to do was fucking kiss and make up?” 

Fenris laughed, bright and rich and loud, and not even Chantry bells could match the glory that was Fenris’s laughter. 

”It is no surprise to me, Anders.” Fenris declared as he wound his arms around Anders’s neck (Anders’s neck!) and smiled that sharp edged smile that resided mostly in his eyes. “After all, the heart is a winding path.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! 
> 
> This was a lot of fun to write, especially since I love the idea of a body swap. It was especially fun to think of reasons why a magical item that induced a body swap would exist. I figured that a Tevinter mage would have made it, and Orlesians decided to use it for their political games. Then Xenon got it for his collection and it languished in obscurity until Hawke got grabby grabby. In any case, I had lots of fun writing, and I hope people enjoyed it!


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